Forgotten
by AuthorReinvented
Summary: One snowy day while Mathew's family is playing at the park, his Papa Francis gets in a fight with Daddy Arthur, and Arthur ends up storming away with Alfred, while Francis chases after him. It isn't until later that they realize that they've forgotten someone... Meanwhile Mathew waits at the cold park for his fathers to come pick him up.
1. Cold

Mathew sat quietly on the swing and swung his short legs back and forth in an attempt to move. He already knew this wouldn't work, which is why he was waiting for Papa Francis to push him. Francis had promised to push him about 10 minutes ago, but had gotten upset at something Daddy Arthur said and had been fighting with him since then. Mathew adjusted his red and white earmuffs with his mitted hands, and tightened his matching scarf, and tried to be patient. He studied the thin layer of soft snow on the ground, fresh from the morning, glittering white.

Alfred was not far away, happily playing on the snowy slide, oblivious to the argument happening a few feet away. This was a usual occurence after all.

"Well, I don't have to listen to this from you, wanker!" Arthur shouted angrily.

"Well, maybe if you did listen to me you wouldn't be such an idiot!" Francis suggested, snottily.

Alfred had gotten tired of playing by himself, and threw himself into the conversation. "Let's Play! I wanna be the hero!" "Go play by yourself!" Arthur shooed him away. "This is an adult conversation" Francis also blew him off.

Alfred's eyes filled with tears, and as his fathers continued to argue, he burst into tears, wailing loudly.

"Now look what you've done! You've upset Alfred!" Arthur shouted, scooping Alfred up in his arms. "I've had enough! We're going home!" He stormed out of the snowy park. "_I_ upset him?" Francis got offended, and rushed after Arthur. "It's you who upset him! Don't ignore me!"

Too late, Matthew realized everyone was leaving without him. He looked up and called out "Papa?" But Francis did not hear him and rushed after Arthur and Alfred.

Mathew waited for a moment listening to the fading voices, then hopped off the swing quickly and ran to the gate when he realized that his family wasn't coming back.

When he reached the gates, he could no longer see his fathers. He ventured a few steps onto the snowy road, but many people had walked by that way and he could not tell his family's footprints from the rest.

He called out again, down the empty street. "Papa? Daddy?"

Silence.

"Alfred?"

Nothing.

Mathew did not know how to get home on his own. He knew Alfred would have tried to find his own way home, but Mathew knew better. After a moment of pondering, Mathew trudged back to the swing set, and with a bit of a struggle, managed to get back on the swing. "Papa said he would push me. He promised, so if I wait here, he'll definitely come back for me." He thought to himself.

Mathew knew that his parents often forgot about him while fighting because he was so quiet, but he also knew that they always come to get him and comfort him after the fight. So he waited on the still swing in the cold winter afternoon, with his breath forming clouds in the air, occasionally pumping his short legs fruitlessly in the cold afternoon air.

"Papa will come back soon. I know it."

…...

"That's your fault you stupid idiot!"

Arthur and Francis were still fighting as they cleaned up the supper dishes. They had fought all the way home, they had fought while making supper, and they had fought all through dinner.

"Well, Alfred thinks I'm the best!" Arthur stated proudly, pointing boldly at the sleepy Alfred, who was dozing off after a warm meal and a hard day of play. "Well, Matthew likes me best!" Francis shot back, pointing his finger towards Mathew's empty seat. "Wait- where's Mathew?" For a moment both him and Arthur pulled up short, suddenly remembering Mathew's absence through supper. "Ah, my,my, he must be very upset and has gone off to hide-" France said with a heavy sigh, a look of chagrin on his face.

"Well it's not my fault!" England argued back, half-heartedly, looking as though he felt quite guilty.

"We'd better go find him" they agreed.

...

At the park, Mathew was the coldest he'd ever been. Mathew didn't get cold very easily, though the rest of his family got cold quite easily. Even so, his fingers and toes felt like block of ice inside his mittens and snow boots, and his nose was so frozen it couldn't even drip anymore. He sniffled a little, as though to test this, as it began to snow again lightly. He considered getting down from the swing and sitting on the bottom of the covered slide instead, but decided against it for two reasons. The first was because his arms and legs were too stiff with cold to move. The second reason was because Mathew knew he was easily forgettable, and he was afraid that if he moved from the swing in plain sight, his parents may never see him.

A cold wind blew, cutting through Mathews snowjacket and chilling him to the bones, and he tightened his grip on the swing.

"Papa, Daddy, please come soon."

...

At this point, Arthur and Francis were panicking.

They had looked everywhere in the house and could not find Mathew. The regrouped at the kitchen table to dicuss.

"M-maybe he got so upset he ran away?" Francis offered, tearfully. "He can't have!" Arthur stated, but he didn't sound sure. "Where was the last place we saw Mathew?"

At this point, a small, chubby hand grabbed the bottom of Francis' shirt and tugged hard. He turned quickly to see the sleepy Alfred, haven just woken up. "Mattie is waiting for Papa to push him on the swings." Alfred barely managed to say through his yawn. "Aren't we going to get him? Mattie will get cold."

And for a terrible minute, Arthur and Francis both froze, each remembering Mathew patiently waiting on the swing. Francis was the first to unfreeze. "He can't still be there." He said, staring Authur dead in the eyes.

"Mathew doesn't know the way home." Was Authur's stiff reply. Then with a flurry they ran for their coats.

"Alfred, wait here! We'll be right back!"

...

Mathew was feeling rather sleepy. The snow had piled up so his feet rested in a pile of fresh soft snow instead of in the air. He wasn't cold anymore. He couldn't really feel anything, and he was so sleepy. Surely his fathers wouldn't mind if he took a nap? His head nodded, and dropped so his chin touched his chest, and stayed there. He kept his eyes closed. His hands seemed frozen to the chains on the swing, his body so stiff with cold it held itself up. Matthew thought he could hear, somewhere in the distance, or perhaps nearby, the sound of Papa Francis and Daddy Arthur calling his name, as he drifted off.

...


	2. Frozen

At first, Alfred hadn't noticed Mathew's absence. He was upset, because his parents were arguing, then he was hungry. It wasn't until during supper that he realized Mathew was missing. Alfred knew that it was easy to forget Mathew, but he thought that other people seem to forget him more. Like Mathew was invisible. But Alfred also knew his father's would remember Mathew when they were done fighting, and go get him, so even when he notice his brother's absence, he didn't mention it right away.

After supper, Alfred got sleepy. He drifted off, dreaming of heroically fighting unknown enemies and protecting his brother. Mathew was weak, Alfred thought. He was too quiet, too kind. Mathew needed his brother Alfred to protect him. And when Alfred woke up, the first words he heard from his fathers was concerning his brother.

It was darker outside now, and at this point, Alfred began to get concerned. Why hadn't his dads gone to get Mathew yet? Alfred was sure that even Mathew was cold by now. And it was dark and scary outside, and he didn't have his brother to protect him. Alfred watched his fathers, but neither looked like they were going to go out. And so, as the hero, Alfred knew he had to do something. Yawning widely, Alfred tugged on his Papa's shirt.. "Mattie is waiting for Papa to push him on the swings." Alfred barely managed to say through his yawn. "Aren't we going to get him? Mattie will get cold."

His father's froze for a moment, then with a flurry of movement, ran for their coats, then the door.

"Alfred, wait here! We'll be right back!"

Alfred sleepily watched them go, with an air of satisfaction, before settling down onto the couch. With his job down, Alfred let his heavy eyes close, and fell asleep.

...

Alfred stood nervously in the bedroom, watching his father's desperately try to defrost his brother. Papa Francis gently rubbed Mathew's frozen hand, then gently rubbed the other. Daddy Arthur had removed the snow jacket and boots and layered many more layers of clothing over Mathew's shirt and pants and was now in the adjoining bathroom running lukewarm water into the tub.

Arthur called to Francis and he pulled off the extra layers of Mathew's clothes and carried him to the bath tub, gently settling his half-conscious form into the tub, hold him up so he didn't sink below the water level and drown. Alfred followed uncertainly to the bathroom door, but Papa Francis shoed him out. "I'm sorry, Alfred, but you cannot see Mathew just now. I have to make a phone call, just wait there." And he hurried on.

Alfred peeped in at his Daddy Arthur, slowly adding warmer water to the tub, still rubbing Mathews hands and feet trying to get the circulation going. Downstairs, he could hear Papa Francis talking on the phone to someone with a Russian accent. "Dammit, Ivan, you know I wouldn't call unless it was important! Please, Mathew needs help!"

Alfred drew away from the bathroom, heart aching. "This is my fault." He thought to himself, remembering how he had happily eaten dinner without Mathew, and had fallen asleep while his parents searched desperately. "If only I remembered Mattie sooner." He thought. "If only I mentioned it sooner." He teared up, and began to cry again, wiping his nose on his sleeve. Arthur looked up and saw him standing there. "Alfred" he called "come here." Alfred wiped his eyes with his other sleeve and tentatively entered the bathroom, sniffling.

"Is Mattie going to die?"

Arthur's eyes widened and he reached out the arm that was not supporting Mathew to him. "No, no, no, Al, Mattie is going to be just fine. He's just a little sick right now." Alfred sniffled a little more. "Its my fault." Arthur looked even more pained. "It's not your fault Alfred. It's not your fault." And he pulled Alfred close until his head rested on Arthur's shoulder.

"Daddy?" A weak voice called from the tub. Arthur started, and Alfred peered into the tub from over Arthur's shoulder. Matthew's eyes were half open, his lips were cracked, and his face was extremely pale. Alfred jerked back, afraid. "I'm cold, Daddy." Mathew murmured. Arthur pulled his arm from Alfred and pulled Mathew up, into his embrace, soaking himself in the process. "Mathew, Mattie, sweetie." He gasped out , holding him tightly. "I know, Mattie, I know. You're going to get warmer. " Mathew was silent for a moment and then said softly, "Papa?"

Author turned to Alfred. "Go get papa, quick!". Alfred took a step back, the. Turned and ran to the top of the stairs, yelling "Papa! Papa!"Francis came running, sliding around the corner. "Alfred, what's wrong?" Alfred was crying again, tears pouring down his face. "Mattie." He sobbed, unable to say more.

Thankfully, Francis understood and came running up the stairs, past Alfred, straight to the bathroom, dropping the phone in the process. He could hear his father's frantic voice in the bathroom. "I'm here, Mathew".

And then his brother's muffled voice "I knew you would come get me".

"Im sorry" Francis said, voice breaking, "I'm so sorry, Mattie." Arthur's voice was also shaking as he interjected "are you feeling better Mathew? Are you warmer? You're going to be okay."

Alfred collapsed at the top of the stairs, shaking.

The cellphone beside Alfred spoke. "Hello? Francis?" But Alfred didn't answer. He curled into a ball on the top step, holding his knees to his chest.

He kept seeing Mathew's pale face. Mathew who's face was so like his own, who's life was so like his own. His other half, and his brother, was so, so pale, and so, so still. As though he were dead.

"How am I supposed to be the hero if I can't save my own little brother?"


	3. Thaw

Mathew drifted in and out of consciousness. His fingers twitched. As he warmed up, the cold had set in, seemingly starting from the bones and spreading through every muscle and nerve. Even under 5 blankets and thick fleece pajamas he still felt cold. Matthew would have requested another blanket if he was able to, but his dreams seemed to mix with reality. Sometimes he would wake up and it seemed like his Papa Francis was holding his hand, or daddy Arthur was trying to coax him to drink to warm water. Sometimes he opened his eyes and it felt like he was all alone, sleeping in a feild of snow.

This was one of those times. Mathew sat up in the snow, his bare fingered pushing at the frozen ground. He turned, looking around him, but there was nothing to be seen around for as far as he could see except snow. He stood up, uncertainly. Mathew felt as though he should be moving, as though he could not stay here, but he did not know where to go.

He got up and stumbled through the snow, trudging into the white landscape, hoping something would appear. He walked for what seems like forever, but the landscape never changed. He ached with cold. One time, he stumbled, and found himself back in a bed, with his sibling at his side, gripping Mathew's hand in his sleep. "It's warm" Mathew murmured, squeezing Alfred's hand back as he drifted off found himself in the blank white landscape again. Mathew wanted to stop walking, to tuck himself into a crevice, curl up and hide from the cold, but there was nowhere to hide. So he kept walking.

The next time Mathew woke up he heard a strange Russian voice that seemed to echo. Everyone's voice seemed to echo. His brother was gone now. "Fading" someone seemed to say, and it reverberated around his head. "Ivan, please!". His Papa's voice also rang in his head. There was a feeling, as though something heavy had been placed on the bed, and something soft and fluffy slipped under the covers. "Did my best. " The Russian voice stated grimly. "Is up to him now." He placed a hand on the animal under the covers. "Keep him warm, Kumajiro."

Mathew closed his eyes in an attempt to make the echoing stop, and when he opened them, he was back in the white snow. He started to move again, and fell over something in the snow. At first it was nearly invisible, camouflaged in the snow, but the black nose and eyes gave it away. A tiny polar bear cub say there quietly. It tipped it's head up and looked Mathew in the face. "Ah, sorry!" Mathew said out of habit. To his surprise the bear responded "who are you?" Mathew was frozen for a moment, then he he spoke. "I'm Mathew. Who are you?" The bear bear scratched his ear, seemingly not hearing him. Mathew tried again. "I'm lost, do you know how to get home?" Again the bear said nothing, but stood up and began to walk away. "Wait!" Mathew cried. "Where are you going? Do you want me to follow you?" The bear continued on without looking back,and for a moment, Mathew hesitated, then he ran after the bear. The bear seemed to walk forever, but Mathew did not give up, if only for the reason it was comforting to not be alone in the cold snow. But eventually the scenery changed. A forest appeared on the horizon and the bear quickened his pace, as though his destination was in the forest. Mathew struggled to keep up. When the entered the forest, the lighting changed. Instead of blinding snow, shadows filtered through the dusted trees and made shapes on the snowy forest floor. The bear weaved in and out of conferous trees, crunching on the rare fallen pine needles. Finally the bear slowed down, and Mathew saw what looked like a man in a white scarf standing there. The Man crouched and rubbed the bear's head. Mathew stood silently, not sure what to say.

The man looked up and stared straight at Mathew. "You should not be out alone in this cold, da?" He said in a thick Russian accent. "Your family is waiting for you at home, you know." Mathew found his voice. "Please, sir, I don't know how to get home. Can you take me?" The Russian laughed. "What are you saying? Just follow the voices." For the first time, Mathew heard the voices calling him. "Mathieu, come back!" His Papa Francis called. "Mathew, please, stay with us!" Daddy Arthur pleaded. "Mattie!" Alfred's voice was louder than the rest. It always was. "Mattie!"

"See? The Russian voice said from behind him. "They are calling for you. Go home to your family, Mathew." Mathew turned quickly, startled. He hadn't given the stranger his name. But when he turned, the place where the strange Russian and his bear had stood was empty.

"MATHEW!" A voice rang out across the white snow again, calling his name. This time, Mathew didn't hesitate. He put one tiny foot in front of the other and ran as fast as his short legs could take him. As the names got louder, Mathew thought he could see his family waiting for him with open arms.

Then he sat up. The first thing he noticed was that he was in his bed. He didn't feel sleepy anymore. The second thing he noticed was his Papa Francis resting his head on the edge of the bed, tears in the corners of his eyes, as he slept. On his left, Alfred was curled up on top of the blanket, holding Mathew's nightdress tightly. With a clattering sound, daddy Arthur entered the room, with a tray of warm tea, milk, and hot chocolate. His hands were shaking, causing the tray to clatter. He gently set it down on the chest at the end of the bed, then looked up, meeting Mathew's purple eyes. With a gasp, Arthur ran to the bed. "Mathew!" Mathew stretched out his little arms to his father, and Arthur picked him up holding him close to his chest. Mathew rested his head on his daddy's shoulder, then a something wet hit the back of Mathew's neck. He pulled back and looked up at his father's face. His daddy Arthur was crying, chest shaking with the force of each breath. "Daddy?" Mathew asked unsurely. Arthur rested his head on Matthew's forehead. "I love you so much, Mattie. Daddy loves you so much." The commotion woke Francis and he too, gasped loudly, before pulling Mathew from Arthur's arms to his own. "Mathieu!" France pressed his lips to Mathew's forehead. "Je suis desolé, Mathieu, je suis desolé." Papa Francis reverted back to French, as he always did when upset. Mathew leaned into his fathers' touches, as Arthur came up behind and out his arms around both Mathew and Francis. "I knew you would come back, Papa." Mathew said quietly, burying his head in his father's chest. "I waited for you. Did I do a good job?" Tears leaked from his Papa's eyes and his voice broke as he answered. "Oui, Mon cher. You did a good job." Mathew couldn't hold back anymore and burst into tears himself, wailing loudly. " I was so scared!" He sobbed. "I thought you had forgotten me there forever!" Arthur rubbed Canada's back soothingly and looked sorrowfully at Francis. What could he say? "We would never forget you?" But they had. Thankfully the empty silence was filled as the loudest country in the house woke up. "Mattie!" Alfred cried, standing up and running awkwardly across the bed. He reached his hands up, but couldn't reach his brother. His fathers sat down, and pulled him into the embrace too. Alred's hands sought Mathew's face, and Mathew squirmed to face him. For a moment blue eyes met violet ones, and the brothers stared at each other. Then, Alfred began to cry too. And for a few minutes, the whole family cried.

Arthur was the first to recover himself, distangling himself and slipping to the tray on the chest at the end of the bed. He shoed Francis and Alfred off Mathew and gave Mathew a small cup of warm milk. "Drink this."he managed to say with a shaky voice. "I added a little maple syrup to sweeten it." Mathew eagerly took the cup and gulped from it. Francis went to the bathroom to wash his face, and brought back warm washcloths to wipe Alfred and Mathew's faces. Arthur took advantage of this to wash his own face, and poured him and Francis some hot tea, giving Alfred his hot chocolate. Mathew had just finished his milk when the blankets at the foot of his head shifted, and a white-furred animal poked it's head out from under the covers. "Eh?" Canada gasped. "That's Kumajiro." Arthur was quick to explain. "Ivan came over and left him for you. He said Polar Bears help keep the cold away." "Mathew was excited. "I know him! He helped me get home!" Papa Francis rubbed Mathew's head. "Did you have an interesting dream?" He laughed. "I will call Ivan back and thank him. " He decided, standing up. Arthur also stood up. "I also need to go downstairs. I'll be right back. Alfred, stay with your brother."

After the boys were left alone, Mathew pouted. "he really did help me in my dream" he confided in Alfred. "He can talk, you know." As if on cue the bear sat back, tilted his head and asked "Who are you?" "I'm Mathew." "Wow! So cool! I'm Alfred!" The bear shook his fur nonchalantly. "Papa's friend came from Russia!" Alfred advised Mathew. "He brought the polar bear for you to keep! He said it's name it Kuma-something." Mathew nodded politely to the bear. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Kumazaki. And thank you for helping me." The bear nodded, unaffected, and promptly laid down and went back to sleep. Alfred slipped his hand into his brother's. "You know," he said in a confiding whisper "I'm glad you came back." "Eh?" Alfred threw himself back on the bed, pulling Mathew with him. "Papa's friend said you were lost and going away. he said we needed to call you so you'd come back." "Ah! I heard you!" Mathew said, eyes wide. "I heard you, and Daddy, and Papa calling me! But your voice was the loudest!" Alfred's smiled. "That's because I'm the hero!" Mathew snuggled closed to his brother. " Alfred is my hero." He muttered. "I'll protect you." Alfred promised, with determined eyes. "In the future, I'll never forget you, even if Daddy and Papa do." Mathew smiled. "Ok."

As his fathers came back into the room, and his Papa Francis pull him onto his lap as Daddy Arthur scooped up Alfred, with his new polar bear curled up behind his back, Mathew thought that despite everything that had happened, this was the best day of his life.


End file.
